


Maybe This Christmas

by GotTheSilver



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 23:29:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of seven connected ficlets, each about the festive period as Derek and Stiles (and various pack members) travel through life.</p>
<p>Or: relentless Christmas fluff.  However you want to look at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe This Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> it should be fairly obvious, but each ficlet is a different year.
> 
> this is mostly written as Christmas gift for everyone who follows me on tumblr.
> 
> Merry Christmas everyone!

“Why, exactly, am I coming with you?” Derek slams the door to the cruiser closed and settles in the seat, waiting for Stiles to get in.

“Because,” Stiles says, automatically switching the car on. “It’s tradition.”

“Did I miss all the other years where we picked up a Christmas tree together?”

Keeping his eyes on the road, Stiles reaches over and smacks Derek on the arm. “New traditions. Dad can’t come with me this year, and this is the first Christmas that we’re, y’know, a thing. Plus you’ve got all that wolfy strength to carry the tree for me.”

Derek snorts, watching Stiles’ mouth curve into a smirk. “I’m just here for muscle power, then?”

“You also look very pretty.”

“Ass,” Derek grumbles, sinking down into the seat, his cheeks flushing.

When they get to the tree farm, Stiles barely parks the damn car before he’s jumping out and impatiently waiting for Derek to join him. Tugging on Derek’s arm, he races in and heads straight for the biggest trees, his face glowing underneath all the lights strung around the farm.

“This one.” Stiles points at a tree with a decisive nod and Derek can’t honestly understand what makes that one different to all the others in the lot, but he shrugs and steps a little closer. “You like it, right?” Stiles says.

“If you like it, I like it.”

Making a face, Stiles frowns. “That’s not how this goes.”

“Not how what goes?”

“This. Us. You never agree that easily. What gives?”

“It’s your tree, Stiles.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and takes Derek’s hands, his face close enough for them to be kissing. Brushing their noses together, Stiles squeezes Derek’s hands. “It’s our tree, dumbass. Yeah, it’s going in my house, but did you miss the whole point about tradition? Our tree. Our first tree.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Stiles kisses him softly, a warm brush of his mouth against Derek’s. “So. You like it?”

“The branches could have more foliage,” Derek grins.

“Fancy word. You trying to impress me so you get laid later?”

“I don’t need to impress you to get laid.”

“You sure?”

Derek lets go of Stiles’ hands and rests his fingers on Stiles’ hips, stepping even closer, until their chests are pressed against each other. “Yeah,” he says, kissing the tip of Stiles’ nose, a small smile on his face when he notices the flush on Stiles’ cheeks. “Pretty sure.”

*

Watching Erica unwrap a set of throwing knives, Derek groans and buries his face in Stiles’ neck. “Who thought this was a good idea?”

Nudging him with his elbow, Stiles laughs. “Shut up. You know we’re all broke college students, secret santa was the best idea.”

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Derek lifts his head and raises his eyebrows at Stiles.

Poking his tongue out at Derek, Stiles turns away, not complaining when Derek wraps an arm around him and pulls Stiles back against his chest. “Okay,” Stiles says, looking around the room. “Who bought those?”

Scott raises his hand with a grin. “Not that she’s not deadly anyway, but I know she liked Allison’s daggers.”

Beaming, Erica runs the tip of her finger down the edge of one of the blades. “They’re awesome. Would’ve come in helpful last month.”

Stiles’ dad looks up from his set of vintage baseball cards Derek got him and frowns at Erica. “What happened last month?”

“Uh.” Erica carefully puts the knives away and shrugs. “There was a thing at school. It was sorted. Minimal blood loss, I swear.”

Stiles watches the exchange with amusement; he’s not entirely sure how Erica and his dad bonded, but each time he comes home she’s sitting in the kitchen with his dad, telling him stories about her time at school.

“Didn’t we have a rule about no violence talk at Christmas?” Derek says, his fingers rubbing against Stiles’ stomach.

“Yes, yes we did.” Allison sits up and reaches under the tree for another gift. “Uh, this one is for... Stiles.”

Leaning forward to grab the present, Stiles rips the paper off, laughing when he sees the complete set of Ninja Turtles wrapped in a Batman t shirt. “Who got me these?”

“I did,” says Isaac, nodding at Stiles. “Scott said you lost yours when you were a kid?”

“Lost might be stretching it. They were sacrificed to the great sand experiment of fourth grade.”

“Trust me,” Scott says with a slow shake of his head as everyone looks to him with questions in their eyes. “You don’t want to know.”

*

Stiles opens the tub of cookies, only to find three left. “Derek,” he calls. “Were the pack here?”

“No.” Derek steps into the kitchen, coming up behind Stiles and wrapping his arms around him. “Why?”

“Because all the gingerbread cookies are gone.”

“Oh.”

And that’s totally a guilty tone in Derek’s voice. Stiles turns around in Derek’s arms and raises his eyebrows at him. “You ate them,” he says flatly.

“Maybe.”

“Okay,” Stiles sighs, slipping out of Derek’s grip and reaching for the flour. “You’re helping me make more.”

Shrugging, Derek sits on a stool at the breakfast counter and grins at Stiles. “Can I lick the bowl?”

“I’ve got something you can lick,” Stiles mumbles, measuring out the flour.

“Oh really?”

Looking over his shoulder, Stiles smirks at Derek. “Later.”

“Promise?”

“If you promise not to eat them all.” Stiles turns around and looks pointedly at Derek. “This batch is for Melissa and the other nurses and _you’ll_ be the one explaining why they’re not getting cookies.”

His lips slipping into a small pout, Derek meets Stiles’ eyes. “Make me my own batch, then.”

“Do you think I’m the Christmas baking elf or something?”

Sliding off the stool, Derek walks towards Stiles, backing him up against the counter. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“And how will you do that?” Stiles wipes his hands against his jeans and rests them on Derek’s hips, a sly grin on his face.

Brushing his lips against Stiles’, Derek smirks. “Take a wild guess.”

*

“Ready?” Scott looks at Stiles, DS in hand. They’re at opposite ends of the couch, novelty Christmas socks on their feet and a bowl of chips on the floor.

Stiles nods at Scott, rolling his neck and narrowing his eyes. “Ready.”

Picking up his drink, Derek downs the whiskey John poured out for him.

“You can’t get drunk, right?” Melissa says as she works her way through a box of chocolates.

“Their annual game tournament makes me want to try.”

Laughing, Melissa offers him a chocolate, which Derek accepts gratefully. “You know they’ve been doing this since they were nine, right?”

“Stiles said something about it the first year I asked,” Derek says after he swallows the candy. “Then he told me to stop talking to him because I was distracting him.”

John comes up behind him and claps a hand on Derek’s shoulder, rolling his eyes at the way Stiles and Scott are kicking at each other while gaming. Taking a seat in the La-Z-Boy Derek and Stiles bought him last year, John kicks his feet up and sighs. “They started it the first year Scott was with us for Christmas. Mel was working, and, well, occupying two nine year old boys and cooking was a bit more than I could handle. I don’t know who came up with the idea—”

“It was Stiles,” Melissa says. “He told me the year afterwards, said it was _tradition_ for him and Scott.”

John chuckles and shakes his head. “Of course he did. Claudia—she was big on traditions.”

“My mom was as well,” Derek says absently, unaware of the looks John and Melissa are giving him. “Christmas Eve, we’d each get to open a present before we went to bed, kept us quiet. The peppermint chocolate cookies me and Stiles make? They were Laura’s favourites.”

“I like those ones.” Melissa nudges him with her elbow. “They’re always the first to go at the nurses’ station. I have to hide some away to make sure I get some.”

“We can make you your own batch next year, if you like?”

“I’d love that.”

Derek smiles and settles back in his chair, watching as Stiles kicks out his foot against Scott’s shin, making Scott retaliate and, really, Derek wouldn’t change anything. He knows that at some point they’re going to end up tumbling off the couch and spilling the chips everywhere; knows that Stiles will probably end up with a bruise, and he’ll end up trying to find the Batman band aids because, as much as Stiles is now an adult, there are some things that he’ll never grow out of. Derek kind of loves that. Loves the family they’ve managed to build.

*

Stiles looks up at the lights dancing on the ceiling and sighs. “Will you all shut the fuck up?”

The whole pack falls silent and then, next to him, Scott starts laughing. “Sorry,” he says between snorts. “Sorry, I just. You’re wearing a Santa hat and swearing at us.”

“So?”

“So maybe you’re not showing the proper Christmas spirit?”

“Scott, stop being an ass,” Lydia calls over. “This is nice.”

Erica giggles and waves a hand in the air, making shadows on the walls. “Holy shit, Stiles, the Lydia Martin seal of approval.”

“Christmas miracle,” yells Isaac.

“Seriously, shut up.” Stiles rubs his hands over his face and rests his head against Derek’s side. “This was meant to be peaceful and contemplative.”

“Stiles,” Allison says, tentatively. “You have met us, right?”

There’s quiet in the room and then Stiles gives in, laughing under his breath. “Yeah, okay. You can all get up if you want.”

“No,” Derek says, his hand resting against Stiles’ stomach. “No, this is good.”

Stiles grins and takes Derek’s hand in his, tangling their fingers together. “New house,” he says quietly. “New memories.”

“Yeah.” Derek squeezes Stiles’ hand, his fingers stroking against the skin.

“Speaking of new things,” Allison says, her voice carrying across the room. “Scott and I, uh, we have something to tell you all.”

“Allison’s pregnant,” Scott blurts out before Allison can continue.

“Seriously?” Stiles says, his eyes wide as he sits up to look at Scott.

“Yeah.”

“Dibs on godfather.”

Scott scrunches up his face. “Like there was going to be anyone else?”

“Yes, yes, we all know your bro love is epic and all encompassing.” Rolling her eyes, Lydia heads over to Allison and kisses her forehead. “Congratulations, sweetheart. Now, I think this calls for a celebration?”

“There’s some leftovers in the kitchen.” Derek lets go of Stiles’ hand and stands up, stretching his arms over his head. “And I think there’s some champagne somewhere?”

Erica lifts her head from Boyd’s lap and frowns. “Why have you got champagne?”

His cheeks flushing, Derek glances at Stiles. “No reason.”

“Sex thing,” Erica says with glee. “Totally a sex thing.”

Stiles gets to his feet and wraps his arms around Derek, kissing his red cheeks. “We can kick them out if you want, y’know. It’s our house.”

Leaning in, Derek brushes their noses together and smirks. “How would we spend our time?”

“I can think of a few things.” Stiles kisses Derek softly before pulling back a little and resting his forehead against Derek’s. “I want one,” he says quietly, so the rest of the room can’t hear.

Derek’s hands still against Stiles’ back. “A baby?”

“Yeah.” Stiles shrugs a little. “Scott and I, we always thought we’d raise our kids together, y’know? And we’ve got this house now, you and me, we’re it, and I think we—why are you smiling?”

“Of course I want a kid with you, Stiles.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

*

Stiles watches Melissa cradle her grandson in her arms as she walks over to the tree, the lights falling over their faces. It doesn’t hurt, not really, but there’s an ache in his chest whenever he looks at Thiago. He loves his godson, he does, but—

He breaks off his train of thought when Derek sits next to him and curls an arm around Stiles’ shoulders. Kissing the side of Stiles’ head, Derek sighs, his gaze fixed on where Melissa is whispering to Thiago. “You okay?”

“No,” Stiles says, his hands digging into his thighs. “I wanted—you know what I wanted.”

“Yeah. I wanted it too.” Derek tugs Stiles closer until Stiles’ head is tucked into his neck. “Next year, okay? I promise. We’ll find the kid for us.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Yes I can.” Derek places a kiss on the top of Stiles’ head. “Werewolf intuition.”

Stiles laughs wetly, the ache in his chest easing the longer Derek holds him. “That’s not a real thing.”

“Stiles, I’m pretty sure we met Bigfoot this year, I’m not ready to disbelieve anything.” Tilting Stiles’ chin up, Derek places a soft kiss against his lips. “Next year. We’ll have that.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Stiles leans in for another kiss, sighing into it; Derek strokes his fingers across Stiles’ cheek as they kiss, and Stiles can’t do anything but believe Derek.

When they pull apart, Melissa is standing there with a contemplative look on her face, and she holds out Thiago to Derek. “You want to hold him?”

“Oh.” Derek’s eyes widen. “Yeah, yes.” He sits forward as Melissa hands the baby over, cupping the back of Thiago’s head with one hand.

Thiago is seemingly unimpressed with everything going on around him; he fixes his eyes on Derek before stuffing his hand in his mouth and drooling over it. Stiles laughs, leaning against Derek’s shoulder, and he bops a finger against Thiago’s nose, grinning when Thiago’s eyes try and follow the movement.

“He’s cute,” Derek says.

“It’s the dimples.” Stiles gently touches Thiago’s cheeks. “They’re deadly.”

Melissa squeezes Derek’s shoulder and smiles. “You two look after him, I need some wine.”

They both sit there quietly, watching Thiago gnaw on his own fist as he stares back at them. “Is he—will he be a wolf?”

Derek shrugs, a half smile on his face as Thiago blows bubbles with his drool. “Possibly. Scott’s bitten, so he might not be, and if Chris could glare the wolf out of his grandson, he would’ve by now. There’s no way to tell for sure until he shifts.”

“Will he get the whole no eyebrows, extra facial hair thing? Because that would not look cute on a baby.”

“What?” Derek makes a face at Stiles. “No. It’ll be fangs and claws. The eyes will shift first, as warning, and then he’ll show his fangs after that.”

“Allison better hope she isn’t feeding him if it happens.”

“That’s nice, Stiles. Very festive.”

“I’m thinking about her, she’s my sister in law. I need to be protective over her breasts.”

“Uh.” Scott walks around the couch and stands in front of them. “I’m not sure exactly what you’re talking about, but I’m pretty sure it shouldn’t be in front of the baby.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and sits back on the couch. “Well, I’m pretty sure Thiago loves Allison’s breasts more than you do.”

“Can we stop talking about my wife’s breasts?”

“Seconded,” Derek says, poking his tongue out at Thiago, and laughing when Thiago wriggles in his arms.

“Hey, do you and Allison want to go out on New Years?” Stiles says suddenly.

“Possibly? We haven’t really talked about it.”

“If you do,” Stiles looks at Derek and smiles. “Derek and I will look after Thiago.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Leaning into Derek, Stiles kisses his cheek. “We’d love to.”

*

Stiles wakes up early on Christmas Day, snuffling his face against Derek’s arm before opening his eyes. The low whimpers of Lila in the next room filter through the baby monitor and Stiles sighs, rolling over and sitting up. Rubbing his eyes, he glares at the sleeping lump of his husband and resists the urge to poke Derek awake.

“Won’t need a baby monitor my _ass_ ,” he mutters under his breath as he tugs on a t shirt. “Werewolf hearing, whatever.”

Closing the bedroom door behind him, Stiles pushes open Lila’s door and smiles softly at her. Her dark hair is a mess, her eyes wide and her mouth open like she’s going to start wailing at any second. Scooping her up, Stiles holds her close, inhaling her sweet baby scent. Her chubby fingers poke at his face, narrowly missing his eyes and he rears back. “Thanks, baby. Just what I wanted, a scratched cornea for Christmas.” Walking over to the mini tree they’d put in her room, Stiles stands by it, letting Lila watch the coloured lights flash at them. Stroking a hand down her back, Stiles sighs, resting his head against hers and yawning a little. “You excited for Christmas? Is that what it is?”

“Of course she is.” Derek’s voice comes from behind him and Stiles turns around, a small smile on his face when he sees Derek’s mussed up hair. “It’s her first one.” Curling a hand around her head, Derek rubs his cheek against hers, smiling when she grabs for his nose.

Keeping his voice low, Stiles snorts. “It’s our first Christmas with her, but that doesn’t mean I want to wake up at the crack of dawn.”

“It’s not even light out, Stiles.”

“Was that supposed to make it better?”

Kissing Stiles’ cheek, Derek laughs quietly. “Come on,” he says, placing his palm on the small of Stiles’ back. “We’ll all sleep in the bed together.”

Stiles yawns, too tired to argue with Derek. They settle into the bed together, Lila resting on Derek’s chest, her eyes starting to droop. Curling on his side, Stiles runs a hand down Lila’s back and kisses Derek’s shoulder. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Stiles."


End file.
